


Towards the Sun

by last7



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Friendship/Love, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 21:24:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7657282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/last7/pseuds/last7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You always had a rebellious streak, Sensei.”</p><p>Mako prepares to give Stacker Pentecost's eulogy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Towards the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> A very tame bit of gore about two thirds of the way down. Just a sentence though so I didn't tag for it.

It had been weeks since the Wei triplets were brought up from Victoria Harbour and the fruitless attempt to recover the Kaidonovskys was called off. Days since their funerals and memorials, the atmospheres permeated with the strange mix of sorrow and joy that only the end of a war could bring. The memorial for Stacker Pentecost and Chuck Hansen was last and Mako prepared herself the best way she knew how - by throwing herself into work and exercise that left her no time nor energy to dwell on anything but the tasks at hand. God knows she had contemplated a future without her sensei enough times since he grudgingly told her that he had terminal cancer, but she never predicted that this was how he was going to go out. The outcome hadn’t crossed her mind and she found herself knocked sideways with the grief.

With wry fondness, Mako recalled the often misremembered old English saying. "Not with a whimper but a bang. You always had a rebellious streak, Sensei.”

-

In the front row, she stared at her folded hands. She wasn’t really listening as Herc gave his speech because the piece of paper that was her own eulogy to Stacker Pentecost felt like it was burning through her jacket and branding her left breast with its heat. In a few minutes she would be speaking about the dead man who was her mentor, her hero, and her father but how could she hope to do him justice when he was so much more than what mere words could express? She had carefully pored over the paragraphs, every sentence, every syllable until she resigned to herself that the speech that now sat in the pocket over her heart was the best she could do. The fact that public speaking was never one of her strengths was an added burden that left her by turns numb and feverish.

Raleigh, sitting beside Mako, observed her straight-backed, calm exterior but knew better than to be fooled by it. She more than likely contained a maelstrom within her. He wanted desperately to touch her, place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, press a kiss to her temple and whisper encouraging words but he resisted because they were in a public arena and he knew she wouldn’t think it appropriate. Instead, he settled on her eyes. They were dry, unfocused, and fixed at a point above Herc’s right shoulder. Raleigh instinctively turned his head to look at the same spot - it was just a benign patch of blue sky. He closed his eyes and reached out with his mind towards Mako’s in a vain attempt to ease her sadness, as if they were still in the Drift, sharing the neural load, but they were sat outside in the breezy, broad daylight of Hong Kong’s spring without a Jaeger in sight.

Hearing Herc barely keep the tremble out of his voice as he talked about his son and her father, Mako made the mistake of shifting her gaze to Herc’s face and, for the first time since the ceremony started, gave her full attention. She knew why she hadn’t until then because it would have taken her utmost strength to not break down right in front of Raleigh and every goddamn person sitting around her. Herc lost as much as her, if not more, the day Operation Pitfall became a success and she realised with regret her disrespect by thinking so selfishly. Determined to take in every word Herc uttered from now on but also to preserve her dignity, she reached blindly for Raleigh’s hand to ground herself. While she never once looked at him from the moment they sat down his solid presence was there in her periphery, visually and subconsciously, radiating warmth like a small sun and she was grateful.

The sudden movement of Mako’s hand caught Raleigh by surprise. Nevertheless, he met her halfway, entwined their fingers and settled their joined hands on his thigh. He heard her quiet exhale of relief at his touch and once more, he glanced at her eyes, now shiny with unshed tears, and knew she was present. Even though their first Drift ended with the evacuation of the Shatterdome it had given Raleigh Mako’s precious memory of Pentecost that day in Tokyo’s rubble, emerging from Coyote Tango framed by the golden light of the setting sun. The sheer amount of emotion contained in the memory had been enough to bring tears to Raleigh’s eyes as he mirrored little Mako and shielded his face. Having Drifted with her three times he had an intimate understanding of what the Marshal meant to her and he wondered with admiration how she was managing to keep it together. He thought about lifting her hand and kissing the back of it but he gave her a slight squeeze instead and she returned the pressure.

Herc said his last words and Mako felt her body involuntarily stiffen with anticipation. Her palms, already damp, started sweating profusely and her knees felt weak though they weren’t shaking visibly yet. She stood up, still tightly clasping Raleigh’s hand like it was a lifeline and only let go of it once she took her first step towards the lectern.

Walking to it felt like an eternity.

Eternity.

Was that what was waiting once your heart ceased to beat? Your body is incinerated in a nuclear explosion that detonated metres from where you stood; what came after? She tried to imagine what it felt like to have skin boil and blister, flesh sloughing off in great chunks to instantly shrivel whilst blood evaporated into red mist. It had happened to him, all in mere nanoseconds. She supposed she should be thankful for the quick death at least but the heart of the matter remained - he was dead.

Nothing happens after death. Mako knows this like she knows the sky is blue but just this once she wishes that wasn’t the case. She wishes her sensei can still think about her, can still knock on her door to reprimand her or tell her he’s proud of her, can still give her one of his rare bear hugs, can still be _here_.

“You can always find me in the Drift.”

Her feet faltered as she remembered his last words to her.

Putting one foot ahead of another her resolve returned with every step she took. With a posture that her sensei would approve of she bowed to the audience before stepping up to the microphone. She passed her gaze over the front row until her eyes caught the glint of sunshine on blond hair and found Raleigh. Her mind recalled the Tokyo light that fell around the figure that stood atop the giant robot, how it nearly engulfed the smile on his face but she saw it anyway even though it hurt to look into the sun.

Mako took a deep breath and began.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for this fandom, for these characters, and in fact my first piece of fan fiction! This was supposed to be the beginning of something totally different but it went the way of angst. Woops.  
> I'm my own beta and tried to go over it with a fine-toothed comb so I hope you'll forgive any mistakes. Suggestions for corrections are welcome.  
> I hoped you enjoyed it!


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